All Work and No Play
by IronPen123
Summary: Secretary Cromwell needs to relax. He is increasingly occupied with his work, extremely exhausted and has no time for himself, or his young, beautiful wife. Elizabeth Cromwell decides to make sure he makes time.
1. Chapter 1

Thomas Cromwell was a busy man. He had no time for the carnal pleasures many of the other Lords enjoyed, including the King himself. Besides he had no desire for a mistress. Cromwell was perfectly content in his own little word, all work and no play.

Many thought the man ruthless and cruel. He preferred the term dedicated. He was aloof, it was true, rarely speaking to anyone other than His Majesty or when someone was in need of critical information, which he, as Secretary, possessed. However, he was not heartless and he had emotions. He just kept them all bottled up inside.

Only one person could break Lord Cromwell from his habitual solitude and seemingly self-possession. His wife. Elizabeth Wykes Cromwell. She alone could break through the shell of this man. The woman could read her husband like a book. She knew every thought he had, sometimes even before the thought had fully processed. She could sense his well-hidden emotions like no other. Lady Cromwell knew of her husband's deep admiration for the King and tried not to feel a slight twinge of jealousy every once in a while. Elizabeth often felt lonely at times, wishing her husband could spend more time with her and less with his job, which was like a mistress.

Although she loved her husband dearly and she knew that he loved her, she wished that he could spare at least a moment with her instead of always coming to bed long after she had fallen asleep. Lady Cromwell would try to wait up for her husband, but he came to bed so late that she was unable to keep from dozing and then falling into a deep slumber. When they finally would lie down together, they would hold one another in each other's arms, sleeping peacefully until Thomas had to rise at dawn to begin another day's duties.

And again, Elizabeth would be alone.

Today was no different than the day before. Cromwell sat at his desk going through papers, reading letters and instructions from His Majesty, as if there were no one else in the world but he and his King.


	2. Chapter 2

It was midnight before Thomas Cromwell came to bed. His wife lay already presumably asleep inside of the bed they happily shared. She rarely did sleep well, however, until he came. Lady Cromwell had made it her business to wait up for her husband as long as she could, lest she lose the minimal amount of time she got to spend with him.

Thomas came into their room quietly, so not to wake his wife. Sighing, Cromwell stripped down and climbed into bed. His head was pounding from a difficult day's work. As Secretary to His Majesty he was responsible for every detail that went on in the kingdom. His work was never truly finished, however, as His Majesty always found something for Cromwell to do.

As he lay in bed, Elizabeth stirred, flipping over on her side to look into her husband's worn and tired, yet handsome face. She smiled adoringly at him. Cromwell returned her kind smile, stretching out his hand and stroking her pretty face. Elizabeth then sat up in their bed, pulling the covers up to her neck to shield her naked body from the chill of the night. Thomas looked up into his wife's brown eyes, somehow lost in them. Her eyes were bright, lit up as she looked back into Cromwell's green ones. The look they shared with one another was one of intense love.

"I have missed you, Thomas," she said to him, snuggling back into bed with her head content upon his bare chest. His body was warm against hers.

"And I you, my love," was his reply.

"How was your day?" Elizabeth asked him, moving closer to him still. The question she had just asked seemed to be the same question every man heard from his wife when he returned home for the day. However, for Cromwell he was never home, so he never got to discuss his day very often. What was there to say? The man was a slave to his King. He did anything His Majesty asked, perhaps taking things too far at times. How should a man sum all that up for his wife?

"It was fine. Full of the same daily duties I always accomplish. Just the usual writing of letters, making sure messages are delivered, that sort of thing. I do whatever I can to make life easier for His Majesty." Elizabeth nodded against him.

"How is the King?"

"He's fine. He is none too happy about how foreign relations are going, though. Although we try to fix relations with other countries, it is to no avail. If one nation is unhappy, it seems to be the business of their neighbors to be unhappy as well, which, of course, makes for unhappy Kings. And as you know, my dear, where there are unhappy Kings there are unhappy citizens." Cromwell explained. Elizabeth wished to hear more about how Cromwell, himself, was feeling. With all respect to His Majesty she cared far less for how _he_ was at the moment. She cared much more to know how her own husband was feeling at the moment. Stressed, frustrated no doubt.

"And how are _you _feeling, dearest?" Elizabeth inquired of her husband. Thomas sighed. He did not much like discussing _his_ feelings. He rarely even had to for Elizabeth knew him only too well.

"I am worried about His Majesty and England. If we cannot get France to stop bickering with our allies, then we shall have no one on our side when we need them. 'Tis all very frustrating. The King, himself, says he would be willing to work with the other rulers of nations if they would only be willing to compromise. It seems to be very common with royalty that things must be done exactly in their way and in their own time, or not done at all. That kind of stubbornness is going to cause more problems in the long run than I think they know."

Cromwell put his hand over his eyes, his headache growing worse by the minute. Elizabeth patted his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"All will be well, darling. You'll see. I am sure His Majesty will figure something out. For now, however, the only thing you need to concern yourself with is getting some rest. You are spent, I can tell." Lady Cromwell never failed to be concerned with her husband. She wanted what was best for him at all times. The rest of the world could fend for itself. They all caused most of their own problems, anyway. Yet, it was Thomas who was forced to find solutions to those problems. He grew weary of it and so did she.

"You are right, my dear. I shall try to not worry you so much. Besides, getting some rest sounds very agreeable right about now." Elizabeth smiled at her husband. Of course she was right.

"Now, sleep. You will have another long day tomorrow and need not be so tired. It is not good to wake as early as you do in the mornings and sleep so little. You are doing your body and your wife no favors. All that time you spend at night awake is wasted at your desk when you could be sleeping or preoccupying yourself with other activities that are far more productive," Elizabeth chided.

"Oh. And what kind of activities would that be?" There was a gleam in Cromwell's eyes as he looked at his wife, smirking.

She blushed. She had not meant to imply anything.

"Never mind, Thomas. What is important is that you get some sleep. And if you do as I say, then we shall see about those _activities._"


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys! Thank you so much for the reviews I've gotten. They are very encouraging and I promise I will update soon._

_I know it's been a while, but I have been SO busy. I did upload another 'Tudor' fic just in time for Christmas, featuring everyone's favorite secretary. Now, that I am on vacation from school I should have loads more time to write even more. I've also had MAJOR writer's block as of late and could not think of anything else to write._

_Anyway, thanks to MrsPhantomSylvia and TrivialQueen for their inspiring words of praise. I couldn't have done this without them! :D_

_Here's Chapter 3 for "All Work and No Play." Hope you enjoy!_

_P.S. We finally got snow-the day after Christmas! Better late than never I guess. :P_

_I do not own anything. All characters and events belong to their rightful owners. I own nothing._

* * *

Thomas Cromwell awoke early. The sun was just barely peeking out from the sky. Yet, it was still mostly dark out. He sat up carefully, as not to wake his wife. Elizabeth was still sound asleep. She snored slightly. Cromwell chuckled silently.

Memories of last night flooded back into his head and he stared at the woman he loved more than life itself. It had been so long since they had come together as man and wife. He treasured the times they were together and when he could show her how much he loved her and needed to be with her, always. Elizabeth had indeed been correct; last night's "activities" had been very productive, as well as they had been enjoyable to both parties.

As he looked at Elizabeth, sleeping peacefully next to him he saw that she lay upon one side, facing him, eyes closed. She was beautiful and she was his, _his. _Although he knew how she felt about the idea of a woman belonging to a man, she seemed to agree in every way that she was indeed his. Thomas wondered what favor he had found with God to have been so blessed to find such a woman with whom he could spend his entire life.

Cromwell then stood up, slowly as not to move the bed much so he would not wake Elizabeth. She stirred slightly as he stood. Thomas looked around the room for a small heap on the floor. His eyes fell to the corner of the room. Walking slowly, he knelt down, searching desperately for his clothes in the pile on the floor. It was a sight to see: Lord Cromwell, the notoriously organized secretary to His Majesty King Henry VIII, unable to find his clothes, which were strewn nearly all over mixed in with those of his wife. He had not cared about organization and tidiness in the least last night whilst in the heat of passion. Cromwell finally found his breeches and tights among the pile and pulled them on.

Next, he found his shirt, which was tangled in Elizabeth's shift. He carefully untangled them from one another and put his shirt on, as well. A thought came to his mind and he tried to untangle the articles of clothing. Cromwell thought about how he and his wife had spent their night together. The tangled clothes reminded him of how their bodies had been tangled and intertwined with one another during their love making. Just thinking about the previous night made him shiver. He cleared his throat and tried to think of other things. But, whenever he would try to think of something else, his mind always brought him back to Elizabeth, the love of his life.

He was finally able to untangle the articles of clothing. He was careful not to make too much noise, for Elizabeth was still sleeping. After finding the rest of his clothes and pulling them on, he turned again to look at his wife. He loved to watch her sleep. She was so peaceful and beautiful. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, her brown eyes were shut behind beautiful lids. He could look at her forever.

As if she knew he was thinking of her and wanted her near him, Elizabeth stirred again. This time she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, putting her hair out of her face, yawning and stretching slightly. Cromwell walked over to his bride, smiling widely. She smiled in return, reaching out to pull him into a warm embrace.

When he reached their bedside she held him in her arms, tightly, as if she would never let him go. She wished not to let him go. Elizabeth wished to lock her husband inside their chambers right this very minute, so that he would not have to leave her and go about another day's exhausting work.

But she knew she could not, no matter how selfishly she wanted to. And she knew that although her husband would never admit it, for he truly was attached to his job, he would have liked to have done the same. Thomas Cromwell was a far too busy man, the King's "yes-man", the very man who would do the King's bidding, no matter how terrible the deed. Under Cromwell, the deed would be carried out for His Majesty, without exception. It was a job that not only took a toll on the man's conscience and very soul, but it had a ghastly effect on the man's health, as well. Master Cromwell went days on end without a decent night's sleep. He was constantly running in and out of the King's study delivering messages to various nobles and holding sessions with the Privy Council. There was much to be done for His Majesty and Cromwell was the man to do it. He did it, and he did it well. Elizabeth was truly proud of her husband, however, she could not help but feel lonely and sad when Thomas was working. She was torn.

On the one hand, he made a decent living, now and they had nice accommodations. Cromwell had the King's favor, which certainly put them in a good position. Plus, Cromwell's secure position with the King almost ensured that Cromwell would keep his job, and more importantly his head. Although his job had certain benefits, it had its dangers, as well. Should the King become unhappy with Cromwell's work, heads would roll, literally. His Majesty had a terrible temper, and although Cromwell was quite efficient and ultimately fulfilled whatever the King required, it was indeed a risk nonetheless. Elizabeth cared deeply whether or not her husband would end up on the block, in fact it was her greatest fear, however, she cared almost as much for the fact that she could no longer have him just to herself. She missed the times when they were alone, just the two of them. Lady Cromwell missed the long talks she and her husband engaged in in the middle of the night, the feel of his arms around her as they lay in bed, the way he would kiss her and touch her. It seemed unfair that she had to share him with the rest of the world, or so it seemed. She did not believe he truly belonged at court. She knew for certain that _she_ definitely did not belong, here. They were too much of private people to constantly be around members of the King's court where gossip was prevalent and hardly anything was private. However, she was married to Thomas Cromwell, and therefore, she had to be wherever Thomas Cromwell was. And, yet, there was no other place she would rather be, though sometimes it bothered her more often than not that they spent little time together.

Elizabeth came back from her thoughts to see Thomas staring at her. He looked as though he were awaiting a response. She did not even notice he had spoken. She had been too preoccupied with her thoughts to have paid any attention. Embarrassed, she took his large hand in her small one and kissed it. He smiled appreciatively.

"Good morning, my darling," he repeated. Oh. _That_'s what he had said. She understood, now. Funny how the simplest statement was so important to her, now.

Elizabeth gave him her best smile and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Good morning, my love," she replied. As she looked at her husband more closely, now she noticed that he was fully dressed and appeared ready to leave. She had been so distracted that she had not even noticed that he was dressed. Now, she was disappointed. She had not enough time with him as it was, but now she had even less time. Elizabeth tried to hide her disappointment, but she couldn't. Her husband knew her far too well.

"Must you go so soon?" she asked him, frowning slightly. He chuckled, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. Their foreheads met and they stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, each spouse bestowing the other with a look of absolute love and complete adoration.

"Yes, I am afraid I must. His Majesty awaits," Cromwell said, standing at his full height, bowing low to her. There was a gleam in his eyes as he looked at her, though it was obvious he did not really want to leave her, either.

"Indeed, he does. But I pray you, sir, not to forget that each night you have a wife who waits just as patiently for your return." A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Am I not more worthwhile than His Majesty, in some matters?"

Cromwell gave her a wolfish grin. "Indeed, you are, Madame. You are a right sight nicer than His Majesty, for sure, and there are certain actions that I could only properly perform with you, my dear." They had had a long standing joke between them that for the past few months the King had taken a new "mistress" of sorts in Thomas. God knew the King saw her husband more than she did nowadays. It panged her.

The look upon her face must have been one of utter despair because her husband looked at her sympathetically and kissed her, again; but this time it was on the lips. When they broke apart, he grabbed her hand in his and kissed it, too.

"I'll try not to work so late tonight, Liz. I promise. I miss you. It hurts me to be apart from you all of the time, especially when I see how it makes you feel. There is no other I would rather spend my time with, my love. You believe me, don't you?"

She nodded. With a final smile, Mr. Secretary turned on his heel toward the door of their bedchamber. With a final look to his wife, he stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. And Elizabeth was alone.

She sighed. Yes, she did believe him. Elizabeth Cromwell knew her husband loved her. She knew he loved her deeply, even though at times it was hard to tell. He had always tried to treat her special, shower her with attention and love and affection. However, as of late he became more absent and their love seemingly more distance. And yet, their love was as strong as ever. They had a bond like no other. His Majesty had Cromwell's utmost admiration and loyalty, it was true. But she had his love. And that was something no one, not even the King of England could take away from her.

* * *

_Tada! Well, I'm satifised with this one. I hope to have Chapter 4 up, soon. I've just been slammed with school work as of late and I haven't had time to update in a little while. Plus, I have had a case of MAJOR writer's block, which doesn't help very much. :/ _

_Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it! _


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Hey all! I finally found time to update like I've been saying I would for months, now. Thank you for your patience. _Really_. I would like to take this time, again to thanks all of my readers and reviewers. You guys are amazing! And I've got to tell ya after reading so many other stories; I've still got a lot to learn! Hopefully my stories _do _interest you and keep you reading.

I appreciate it _**SO**_ much. It means a lot to me that people take time to read and review my stories. I hope to have other stories coming in sometime in the near future, as well as to update some others. Unfortunately, my "infamous" writer's block has prevented me from doing so. I will gladly take any ideas from anyone and I promise to give credit to any ideas given. I'm open to constructive criticism, anytime!

Any who, thanks again to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are the best! Now, without further ado, I present chapter four of "All Work and No Play." I promise there will be a plot developing, soon. I'm just enjoying writing a bit more of the romantic aspect of the story, for now.

~IronPen

P.S. Let's hope it's not another three, or so months before you get another update out of me! But, that all depends on my school work and other factors!

Enjoy!

* * *

The Lord Privy Seal stood at his desk rifling through papers, documents, and all other matters of importance, mainly regarding the Reformation and the king's "legal work." Secretary Cromwell was notoriously tidy. The man strived for utter perfection for himself, and likewise, others. Everything simply _had_ to be in perfect order, His Majesty required it. However, the amount of papers and work that had accumulated on Cromwell's desk was indeed too difficult to do much of anything with, for now.

To spend time (though it was necessary) rearranging everything would be an extremely daunting task. Such a task would be nearly impossible to accomplish at the moment. He had far more important matters to attend to. He had little time to preoccupy himself with such trifle things, such as neatness or organization. Cromwell would eventually get to it, of course, but all that mattered for now was finishing the tasks at hand. He needed to do whatever His Majesty asked of him and he needed to do it, well. The mess could wait. His Majesty could not.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Cromwell jumped ever-so-slightly, not expecting a visitor. He was far too busy to see anyone, now. Not wanting to be rude, he swallowed and took a deep breath, wishing to calm his nerves. He was not completely sure why he was so uneasy. _It must be the stress_, he said to himself.

"Enter."

The door opened and the person on the other side of the door stepped into the room, preceded by a young man who was the steward. Cromwell was distracted and did not notice whoever it was that had entered the room. He was too preoccupied nervously shuffling papers and trying to make the place look somewhat decent.

"The Duke of Suffolk, Lord Cromwell," the steward said, bowing. Still, there was no response from the king's secretary. Cromwell may very well have been in another country, for the man's words were left unheard and unacknowledged.

"Master Cromwell?" replied a sharp voice. Cromwell's head rose up to see Charles Brandon standing before him. The steward bowed once more to both men and then quickly left them to business. Flustered, Cromwell finally met Brandon's gaze. He cleared his throat and walked toward the man standing before him, now. There had been a subtle edge to Brandon's voice. God knew, perhaps as everyone else at court, that Brandon made no secret of his dislike of Cromwell; however, he seemed particularly irked. This only added to Cromwell's apprehension and worried state. What in the world could he have done to irritate Suffolk? He could think of nothing he could have done to offend this man, save for pleasing the king and remaining in his good graces. Brandon desperately wished Cromwell to fall. If Brandon had had it his way, Cromwell may never have risen at all.

"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy," Cromwell asked, a little edgier than had been intended. He did not appreciate being bothered at this time, by anyone, nevertheless, the likes of Brandon. The longer Suffolk remained in his office meant that Cromwell would get less work done. He simply could not afford the distraction. As far as he was concerned whatever Brandon had to say was far less important than what _he_ had to do.

Charles scoffed. It was as if the idea of Cromwell being busy was amusing to him.

"Now, now, _Lord_ Cromwell," Brandon sneered at the title. "Do you really think that any way to address your _superior_?"

Superior? The Duke of Suffolk had overreached himself. Cromwell had much more power as Lord Privy Seal and Brandon bloody well knew it. How dare he? The man was either a damned fool or blinded by his own hatred, dare it even be jealousy?

"No, not at all. Please accept my humble apologies. Forgive me, _Your Grace_," now it was Cromwell's turn to sneer. Tension was rising. The king's secretary and his former brother-in-law were at a face off. The battle of sorts seemed to have reached a stalemate, as both sides did not move; neither did they speak for quite some time. Their pride and arrogance allowed no such thing. The stubbornness and great pride of these men would eventually be their downfall.

_Why doesn't he leave me to do my work? Doesn't he know that I have far more urgent matters to deal with? I don't trust this man. He wants my head on the block, I know it. Well, if he's not careful, I can arrange the same thing for him, _Cromwell said to himself.

_Curse him! How dare he mock me? I don't believe he fully understands who he's dealing with. He'll never have a much power as I have. Why can't he get that through his thick, little head? He's a man of low-birth, a man of no station. I shall not let him have the upper hand! _

Both men were now seething with anger. They loathed one another to an extreme. Yet, they were also one another's debt. One would fall before the other. Each wished to make it so that it was not them who fell first. They would go to great lengths to ensure their own positions were safe. Both men had been forced to do so many times before with other adversaries and they were willing and prepared to do it again. They were fully engaged in their dispute. The differences between the two men became less pronounced. Were they not very much the same? For surely both of them wished the other to fall out of the king's good graces? Did they both not strive for the king's utmost love and affection? Did they not wish to be Henry's most loyal and faithful servant? Were they not as children, now fighting for a mother's love?

And yet, it could not be helped. For the world in which they lived was fickle, as was the king they both served so fully. The battle over station and His Majesty's affection was a fight for one's life, as well.

The men continued to glare at one another. It seemed as if one was daring the other to speak. Brandon was about to open his mouth when the door to Cromwell's office opened behind them. Cromwell looked over Brandon's shoulder to see who had entered, interrupting the two men and perhaps saving either one from murdering the other. Brandon turned his head, as he heard footsteps across the wooden floor.

It was the steward.

"Excuse me, sirs," the steward addressed the two men, bowing. Cromwell gave the young man a swift smile. Brandon remained perfectly still, completely unphased by the visitor's entrance.

"Master Cromwell, His Majesty wishes to see you immediately." Brandon watched Cromwell out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, of course. Did His Majesty give a reason for his request to see me?" Cromwell eyed Brandon cautiously.

"No, Lord Cromwell. His Majesty only requested your presence, as soon as possible. He wishes to speak to you _alone_," was the reply.

Cromwell gulped slightly. There seemed to be an indication that His Majesty was not pleased with something. Whatever it was, it must have something to do with him. He prayed His Majesty was not angry with him. Nothing good ever came from that.

He looked over to Brandon who was looking rather smug. By the tone of the steward and the urgency of Cromwell meeting His Majesty, it could only be bad news. Cromwell quickly thanked the steward and then dismissed him.

As he walked past Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk slapped him roughly on the back. Then he turned to walk away. Before leaving Cromwell alone in his office, he looked at him and smirked. Then he said menacingly, "Well, I guess you might not be as importance as you think you are." Brandon glared at Cromwell once more before closing the door behind him, leaving the king's secretary alone for a moment to gather his own thoughts and then to meet a presumed unhappy king.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Eh, not bad. It was my first attempt at any character interaction with Cromwell, except for when he's with Elizabeth, of course. There's still really no plot, yet. Sorry! I will work very hard on "the point" of this story. I still haven't developed everything yet. So far, it's more likea random series of events, I guess.

You're probably wondering the reason for Brandon's visit? Well, as I don't have a reason let's just say it was to antagonize Cromwell. That seems to be what he does most, anyway. I know there wasn't much solid dialogue, or much point or sustenance to their "argument" but it's the best I could think of. I personally think most of their "arguments" are more 'reading between the lines' types of things. Whenever they happen to meet the real, core issue under all the pretenses seems to be their envy of one another. They compete for power and Henry's affection, as most people did. Eventually, Brandon got the upper hand and helped Cromwell to be executed.

Anyway, let me know what you thought and what I should do better, or what you like!


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